She's Been There All Along

He grabs my hand and tells me I’m beautiful

I interlock my fingers with his

Once weathered by cuts and scrapes

Now so delicate, painted colors so tender

He’s beautiful too

 

We stand together looking in the mirror

He plays with my long hair 

Almost the length of his 

That runs down my hips

Where I find his hands once again

Feeling thinner and more intimate than ever before

 

As he moves in closer

I inhale his scent and taste his lips

Striking me with an unfamiliar sweetness

His glossy eyes meet mine

Fighting to hide the tears he never allowed himself to show

Fall warmly and slowly down my face

 

I catch his facade gazing at my reflection

I want to ask him what’s happening

Because I’m confused

But he is is no longer there

A curvy, soft figure seamlessly takes his place

Once vacated by a pleasant but uncomfortable space

And it finally becomes clear to me

She’s been there all along

 

He was just an imposter.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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